


The Infernal Bodyguard chapter 20.5

by Santillatron



Series: The Infernal Bodyguard [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is possessive (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Hand Jobs, Look they had a lot of time to kill ok, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, You Decide, or Feelings With Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santillatron/pseuds/Santillatron
Summary: The missing bedroom scene from Alistair and Crowley's reunion.(Extra scene from The Infernal Bodyguard)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Infernal Bodyguard [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858468
Comments: 29
Kudos: 78
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	The Infernal Bodyguard chapter 20.5

**Author's Note:**

> Just joined us? This is an extra scene from the finale of [The Infernal Bodyguard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241204). You've got some catching up to do!
> 
> For the rest of you, you wanted to know what happened up there, so here you go. Apologies it's taken a while, turns out I was more burnt out than I realised and once I freed my brain up all those stories that I've been putting aside for months decided I had to start them all!
> 
> But it's been a year since I first had the idea for this story, and the area where I live is doing so badly they've had to come up with a whole new level of lockdown restrictions which means we can't travel to family for Christmas, so I figured it was time to send this out into the world. 
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe.

“Or, perhaps, one, single, better idea?”

Alistair's hands continued to drift, Crowley’s scent surrounding him from where the site jacket slung over his shoulders was ingrained with that spice and smoke and, goodness, how he’d missed that. There was an undertone in there of something overwhelmingly masculine that brought to mind strenuous physical labour, and the idea of Crowley working up a sweat in this jacket sent a pulse of desire through Alistair’s body. Crowley had always been a man of actions, not words. A physical force of nature, he was always at his best when in motion, but now, in this room, Alistair found the other side of him. No sunglasses, no bravado, just… Crowley. After everything that had happened, to be given this level of trust was humbling to say the least. 

Oh, and Crowley was half naked. Can’t forget that point. Quite hard to miss, really, seeing as Alistair couldn't tear his eyes from the droplets of water that fell from the dark tendrils of Crowley’s hair onto his naked shoulders. Alistair's gaze followed them as they sauntered their way vaguely down the contours of Crowley’s bare chest, some snagging in the hair there, waiting for another to join it before their combined weight sent them racing each other down the flat plane of his abdomen. It was mesmerising. Crowley’s torso was exquisite, flushed with goosebumps it was taking all of Alistair’s willpower not to lean forward with his warm tongue and lap up every, single, falling droplet from Crowley’s chilled skin.

As they stood there in stunned silence, taking each other in for the first time again, there was the occasional soft thud of rainwater dripping onto the dark carpet, barely audible over the muffled bass beat thumping up through the floor. A young lady seemed to be rejoicing in the welcome lack of company beyond herself and her companion.

In the face of her implications, Crowley quickly came to the conclusion that he really hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t really thought at all, beyond the need to get out of the rain and the strong desire to have Alistair all to himself, and now they were in his bedroom and he was once again completely out of his depth in the way that only Alistair seemed to be able to achieve. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he was very cold, but it was hard to think of anything other than Alistair standing right in front of him and doing that thing again where he held him so tenderly. Alistair knew the dark depths of him, knew what he was and what he was capable of, and yet he was caressing him like he was something precious.

Alistair was stood before him, platinum curls flattened by the rain, drowning in the huge site jacket. The deep navy colour overwhelmed his usual pale palette. More importantly, though, he was also standing at the foot of Crowley’s bed, and how many times had Crowley played this out in his head? Not enough, clearly. He was frozen to the spot, possibly literally, with no idea how to proceed. He’d spent so long training himself to hold back, don’t touch, don’t let it show, and those instincts were hard to overcome.

But just as he remembered, Alistair was impossibly soft and warm and Crowley couldn’t stand it. He desperately wanted to smother himself in that warmth and stay there for as long as he could get away with. The way Alistair was looking at him, devouring him with his soft, grey eyes while his hands roamed was more than Crowley’s lust-fueled imagination had been able to conjure up and he was terrified that he would say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, and Alistair would vanish again. 

“No one watching now.” Crowley said, his voice low as he brought his hand up to brush his knuckles gently down Alistair’s cheek, barely a hint of a shiver in his touch. “Save, me.”

Crowley’s eyes slid down as Alistair peeled off the outer layers, throwing them blindly into the corner and revealing that while he’d forgone the waistcoat, he was wearing those damned suspenders again. 

The sight of the suspenders caused Crowley’s heart to trip over itself in its rapid acceleration as whatever tether had been holding him back, severed. His hand slid back from Alistair’s cheek to cradle his neck, the other wrapping itself around one of the dark blue suspenders and pulling Alistair close as strong arms in pale shirtsleeves encircled him. Crowley couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through him as he sank into the embrace, his body feeling as if it released a breath it had been holding for a very long time. 

Numb skin blurred the fine details, the crisp, clean texture of the cotton shirt, the small buttons that dug into his chest, but Crowley could feel the warmth. A glorious, heavenly, all-encompassing warmth that Alistair had always seemed to exude. A warmth that seared deep into Crowley’s flesh, meeting the flames of desire that burned him from the inside out. 

Crowley could feel with startling clarity the slow heat in the kiss as their mouths met, noses digging into cheeks and lips already parted as Alistair’s tongue pressed forwards to slide against his own. It burned like nothing he’d ever felt before, even as Alistair took his bottom lip between his teeth, gently for now, but promising more. 

“Fucking hell, I missed you so much, Angel.” Crowley whispered into the scant space between them. The cool air hit his skin and triggered a full body shiver, reminding him that he was still soaked to the bone. Everything was a mess of conflicting signals, cold on the surface and burning up inside with the need to feel Alistair, to press himself as close as possible and lose himself in this perfectly imperfect moment. 

“Still can’t believe you actually wear these in public.” Crowley mumbled, tugging on the suspenders. Bloody hell, the way he reacted to these sodding things was borderline embarrassing. 

“I wore them for you.” Alistair said, his voice low as he ducked his head to press his mouth down the long line of Crowley’s throat, smiling slightly at the soft, almost resigned groan it elicited. “Now I must insist we get these wet trousers off and get you warmed up.”

“That keen, are we?” Crowley murmured back, only a hint of the underlying nerves showing through as he tilted his head to give Alistair better access. He felt the answering hum reverberate through his chest, bouncing around his ribs, the low rumble soothing as much as it was exciting. 

“I have certainly felt your absence quite keenly.” Alistair replied, dragging his lips across Crowley’s skin towards his ear. “I have missed your wit,” he said as his hands settled into a tight grip on Crowley’s hips. “I have missed the way your mouth quirks when you’re amused,” he smiled, trailing leisurely kisses along Crowley’s jaw. “I have missed your kindness, hidden as it is behind petulance and sarcasm,” he teased as he pressed a quick kiss against Crowley’s lips, before glancing sideways at the bed, “and I have even missed your stubborn disregard for the proper use of furniture.” 

“Not sure you can improperly use a bed, Angel.” Crowley replied. He was feeling uncharacteristically defenceless in the face of Alistair's onslaught of kind words and tenderness. Not a situation he normally revelled in, but Alistair always had been exceptional. 

“Oh, I’m sure you could find a way, my love. I have faith in you.” Alistair murmured just below his ear, smiling lips brushing the sensitive skin there.

Crowley’s brain stuttered. _Bastard. Just dropping that in there like it’s nothing_. He’d had people trust him, yes. But to have faith in him? Turning his head to capture Alistair’s lips in a hungry kiss, Crowley’s hands found themselves at his bow tie, unravelling the knot with cold, fumbling fingers. Pulling the silk free of the shirt collar, Crowley draped it around his own neck, the dregs of Alistair’s body heat trapped in the fabric seeping into his flesh and sending goosebumps flooding across his skin. 

Crowley’s half-numb fingers struggled with the shirt buttons as Alistair’s hands found his arse and pulled him in against the growing firmness in his trousers. With Alistair moaning into his mouth, Crowley’s fingers went slack. His memory had served him well when it came to the sounds that Alistair made, but it was no substitute for the real thing, not to mention the feel of how much Alistair wanted him, hard and digging in next to his own. His fingers found the dark fabric of the suspenders again, curling around them and dragging him in. 

Crowley was at the point of desperation, needing to sink himself into that warmth and softness as much as possible. Needing it more than anything he had ever needed before. His hands shoved the suspenders off Alistair’s shoulders, pulling at the shirt to untuck it, and now, _now_ he can slide his hands up under that thin cotton. Now he can get to the source of all that warmth and sink greedy fingers into that softness. He can’t help the sound he makes any more than he can stop his hands as they slide around Alistair’s back, pulling their bodies together. He has Alistair, finally, in his arms, and he is going to hold on as tightly as he can. 

Alistair flinched as Crowley’s hands slid up his back, sucking in a sudden gasp, and Crowley yanked his hands back as if burned. Fuck. He’s gone too far. Too fast. 

“No, darling, don’t stop, your hands are just a tad chilly and it caught me off guard. Please don’t stop.” Alistair whispered urgently against his lips. 

_Darling._ Crowley wouldn't have said he was anyone's darling, but it sounds so good falling from Alistair's lips. 

Crowley pulled back to look at him. The late afternoon sun had broken through the clouds and was streaming through the little window, bathing Alistair in the gentle afternoon light. Soft shadows fell across his face and his hair was glowing again. Alistair looked uncharacteristically ruffled and Crowley marvelled at him. His cheeks flushed, his hair a luminous mess, his lips swollen and pink. Crowley couldn’t look away. _I did that…_

Alistair gazed back at him with much the same wonder, his eyes flitting all over Crowley’s face, his still damp hair, the slack line of his jaw below his shining lips.

“Don’t ever stop. I want all of you.” Alistair whispered, a half-breathed admission. Then his gaze slipped down Crowley’s neck to his collarbones, where the two ends of the bow tie sat, draped innocently down his chest. 

An expression crept over Alistair’s face. One that Crowley had only caught a fleeting glimpse of before, and it had been enough to irrevocably stall his train of thought at the time. Now, as Alistair’s hands took hold of Crowley’s hips, he was rendered breathless and with an intense flush of arousal. This wasn’t one of those reverent touches that left Crowley in a blissfully mindless state, this was a vice-like grip that sent a skittering bolt of electricity up Crowley’s spine, his awareness rapidly shrinking down to every divine point of contact between their two bodies. 

“That,” Alistair growled, and oh there’s an undertone to his voice Crowley very much likes, judging by the shiver racing through him that has nothing to do with the cold, “is my bow tie. My own personal tartan, and I don’t recall giving you permission to wear it.”

Crowley shrugged as naturally as possible, looking down at the end of the bow tie held in his fingers. “Is it now? Well if you want it back, you’d better come and take it.” 

Crowley will blame his treacherous legs for the ease with which Alistair reached down and swept them out from underneath him, hoisting him up and wrapping them around his own waist. He can do nothing but throw his arms around Alistair’s neck as he is lifted effortlessly into the air and, oh sweet fucking Manchester, carried across the room. He instinctively tightens his legs around Alistair, before realising he’s safe. Alistair isn’t going to drop him. Crowley can’t see how he’ll ever get used to the way Alistair can just manhandle him like this, and the sound that escapes is a resigned groan. Love has made him a fool, and hates how much he adores it. 

“Oh hush, you. I’m going to give you such a thorough seeing to that you might actually walk straight.” Alistair growls, but before Crowley can react he is colliding with something hard behind him. The impact knocks a grunt from him, but it comes out more of a moan as Alistair presses his body against him, diving in to suck hard at the racing pulse of his jugular. 

Alistair has Crowley pinned to the cool, painted wood of the wardrobe door, his legs released so Alistair's hands can roam freely, and, sure, Crowley knows at least four ways to get out of this before he even thinks of hurting Alistair, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now. Trapped there against the door that rattles with every movement, he can’t help the way he reacts as Alistair pushes his knee between Crowley’s legs and holds him in place with a firm pressure. Alistair’s hands are all over him, fingertips digging hungrily into the sparse flesh of his torso, nails dragging over skin that’s riddled with oversensitivity as his overheated blood forces its way back to the surface. Nerve endings are bursting back to life as broad hands skim over them and it’s still not enough. 

“You are a menace, Anthony J. Crowley.” Alistair says into his ear, his voice deceptively calm, but Crowley already knows what he is. He’d never thought it would work quite so much to his advantage though. 

“You just noticed?” Crowley gasps out, squirming and rolling against Alistair’s hip. He desperately wants to get Alistair’s bloody shirt off but he can’t get his hands between their bodies to undo the rest of the buttons. He’s powerless to do anything about what is happening, and completely fine with it. 

The gentle kisses from earlier give way to a single minded onslaught of lips and tongue, Alistair trailing possessive nips and sucks against Crowley’s throat, his shoulder, his earlobe, anywhere he can reach without having to release his hold. He’s gorging himself, and Crowley loves it. Loves him. 

“I knew you were going to be trouble the moment I saw you, my dear. I’m just in a position to do something about it now.” Alistair says, firm hands making quick work of the button and zip on Crowley’s trousers. Before Crowley has worked out what’s about to happen, everything is shoved down in a frantic scramble, just far enough for Alistair to skim over the bony protrusions of Crowley’s hips, knead the rounded flesh of his buttocks, and take the aching length of his cock in a determined grip. 

“FUCK!” Crowley exclaims, panting as his head hits the cupboard behind with a thud. No preamble, the sudden rush of sensation is overwhelming, rapidly unravelling him with the first, insistent tug. Crowley has always loved Alistair’s hands and the feel of one wrapped around his cock after so long is almost more than he can comprehend, but he doesn’t know if he’ll recover if Alistair stops. His hands are soft, but his grasp is hot and firm, with a definite suggestion that he could hold a lot tighter if he felt like it. Crowley knows his relationship with danger and is only mildly surprised at his sudden desire to know just how tight Alistair’s fist could go. He would have panicked at the speed at which his control is deserting him, but this is Alistair, the only person he’s ever been able to trust like this, and so he loses himself in the feeling of it. _Knees, don’t you dare…_

There’s no finesse, just Alistair using one hand to roughly jerk up and down the ample length of Crowley’s cock, messy and urgent, smearing the precum with his palm to glide his path. As his tongue plunders Crowley’s mouth, Alistair’s other hand is busy with the last of his own shirt’s buttons, shoving it off his shoulders to rid himself of it completely. He pulls back, eyes locked on Crowley’s face with a firm set to his jaw, examining every twitch, every little movement of his mouth as Crowley rolls his head and chokes on the sheer volume of everything he hasn't got the capacity to express right now. Occasionally Alistair’s gaze darts down to glance at the ends of the bow tie still draped around Crowley’s neck, or even further down to watch as the head of Crowley’s cock appears again and again from the tight ball of his fist. It’s filthy and it’s sloppy, and Alistair can’t quite believe Crowley has let him do this without a fight. Lord, he loves this man.

Alistair pulls their bare chests together, and Crowley finds another noise he wasn’t aware he was even capable of, his whole body lighting up at the warmth of skin contact. Crowley can do nothing but hold on desperately to Alistair’s shoulders as he is completely overpowered and savagely debauched against the rattling wardrobe door. This is not the gentle touch from before, this isn’t Alistair seeing him for all his flaws and still wanting to cherish him, this is Alistair seeing him for everything he is and wanting to _claim_ him. 

And holy shit is Crowley evidently very much into that. 

However, the heady rush of arousal has the usual side effect on legs that are still primarily trapped in tight, black, wet cotton. An effect not helped by the way Alistair has moved away to drop his own trousers down in a hasty bid to be free of them. Crowley can feel the pressure rising. Then he feels the slippery glide of silk on the exposed skin of his hip, looks down to see the stretch of the material around a cock he can’t stop fantasising about as Alistair’s thigh slides back in between his and Crowley's coordination abandons him, apparently taking his knees with it. 

“Hnnn! Angel… Fuck, Angel… legs… no… ah!” Crowley pants, his arms scrabbling at Alistair’s shoulders as his knees buckle. Alistair slips his free arm around Crowley’s waist and holds him tight, trapping him against the door with his shoulder and thigh so there is nowhere to slide down to. His brutal tugs don't slow for a second. Crowley feels the tension in Alistair’s arm as he takes his weight, the muscles underneath solidifying in a way that tells him yet again that he is safe, here, in his Angel’s arms.

“You’re not going anywhere, my love. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” Alistair says right in Crowley’s ear, his voice sounding about as wrecked as Crowley feels and that’s the final straw. Throwing his head forwards into Alistair’s shoulder, Crowley’s whole body locks up, curling inwards. A guttural sound rips from his throat as the orgasm tears through him, wrenched out by the hand still working his cock. Alistair keeps hold of him, not letting up the pace for a moment as he demands every last drop. 

Crowley’s never come so hard in his life.

Jerks turning to flinches, Alistair's touch becomes gentle. Completely limp and half draped over Alistair’s shoulders, Crowley didn’t even have a moment to gather his thoughts before Alistair kicked away the trousers gathered around his ankles and pulled Crowley’s legs up around his waist, hoisting him effortlessly into the air again. Turning to the bed, Alistair lowered him carefully down, before reaching for the tissues on the bedside table and cleaning them both up. Crowley’s tight, black trousers and socks were unceremoniously yanked the rest of the way off. It took some effort, and Alistair let out a victorious cheer when Crowley’s legs were eventually free. The socks were removed with a similar flourish, leaving Crowley completely bare and utterly boneless, spread out on the bed, with Alistair grinning down at him in satisfaction at the overly theatrical way he’d removed a sock. The sight of Alistair like that, so carefree and joyful, spread a warmth in Crowley’s chest that no amount of cold rain would be able to quash. 

Toeing his own socks off, Alistair laid down next to Crowley, propped up on one elbow, and dressed in just his pale blue boxers. Leaning down, he peppered Crowley’s face with kisses, gentle presses of soft lips, a hand carefully sweeping away locks of hair that clumped together as it dried, running his hand through the tresses to separate them. There was a quiet rustle of fabric as Alistair drew the bow tie out from under Crowley’s neck, rolling it around his fingers. Alistair was still sporting a fierce erection, but he was in no hurry. Tending to Crowley in that manner scratched an itch he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying for quite some time.

All Crowley could do was gaze up at Alistair, a lazy smile on his face, love-drunk and in a post-orgasmic haze that rendered the whole world gloriously soft. 

“You do seem to be making a habit of going full snake in the heat of the moment, darling.” Alistair teased with a slight smile once Crowley was settled.

Crowley frowned slightly, making a garbled sound of incomprehension.

Alistair fought back a grin of his own. “No legs.” He said simply. 

Crowley rolled his eyes, fighting down the smile. “Oh, so it’s my fault you make me go weak at the knees, now, is it? What brought that on anyway?” Crowley mumbled eventually, his voice slow and gentle. 

Alistair held up his hand with the bow tie wrapped around his fingers. “You wore my tartan without my permission, my dear. Around your neck like a collar, no less, and refused to give it back. There are rules about tartan and that sort of behaviour leads to consequences, I’m afraid.” 

Huh. Crowley hadn’t thought of it that way. He stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps tartan could be stylish after all, in the right circumstances…

“So. Did that meet with requirements? Are you likely to walk straight now?” Alistair asked, breaking Crowley out of his contemplation of the many interesting things that could be done with a length of plaid.

“Wh- oh, yeah. That was incredibly hot, Angel. No danger of me doing _anything_ straight for a couple of days at least, though. Possibly ever. No idea how I missed your possessive streak.” He said with a lazy grin.

Alistair looked away. “Yes, I’m sorry, my dear, it’s rather a flaw in my personality, I–”

“Alistair.” Crowley interrupted, a slender hand reaching up to Alistair’s chin to gently turn his face back to him. “What part of ‘incredibly hot’ made you think I didn’t enjoy it? Fucking hell, Alistair, if you do that every time I wear tartan then I’m getting a kilt made up. Easier access.”

Crowley put his hands behind his head and settled back onto the bed with a relaxed smile. 

Alistair shut his mouth, blinking a couple of times before looking at Crowley, the flush on his face extending all the way down his chest. “Oh. I see. Well, I shan’t be held responsible for the consequences of you in a kilt, my dear.”

Taking a moment to indulge in the sight of Crowley spread out like this, all long lines and wayward limbs, Alistair was momentarily entranced by the deep red of painted toenails before remembering what they were supposed to be doing in the first place. 

“Oh! Crowley we are supposed to be warming you up. Come on,” he said, pulling the duvet back, “get in before you get cold again.”

Rolling into Alistair, Crowley buried his face in Alistair’s chest with a petulant whine, hands coming out to wrap around his waist and hold on.

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m coming with you.” Alistair chuckled, and together they crawled up the bed and slid under the covers, Alistair holding out an arm for Crowley to snuggle under.

Not satisfied with that, Crowley’s ever-restless hands started drifting all over Alistair’s body under the covers, exploring, idly reacquainting himself with all the luscious dips and curves that any decent sculptor would go to great lengths to immortalise in marble. Crowley’s hands drifted further down, gliding over the silk of Alistair’s boxers and feeling the rub of the material between his fingers. 

Floating on a blissful cloud of endorphins and soft angel, Crowley’s exploring fingers found something that was most definitely _not_ soft. Mischievous fingertips trailed along its length, light, teasing strokes, as Crowley noted the way the rise and fall of the torso under his head stuttered, the heartbeat under his ear speeding up. Turning his head, he pressed a light kiss to Alistair’s chest, perilously close to a nipple, and the solid length jumped under his hand. Flattening his palm over it, he applied some pressure, delighting in the way Alistair’s hips rolled up to meet him as he let out the smallest of moans. 

“Alright there, Angel?” Crowley asked, far too casually. 

“Oh, you rascal.” Alistair replied, his voice slightly breathless. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” Alistair tucked his free hand around the back of Crowley's neck and pulled him into a deep kiss, a searing roll of tongues that gradually became firmer and more insistent as Crowley teased Alistair’s cock through his underwear. Crowley relished the moans and whimpers, swallowing them down as Alistair’s fingers dug harder into his flesh. With a final bite of a plump lip, Crowley pulled back. He grinned at Alistair’s heavy lidded and slightly dazed expression, then slithered his way down under the covers and took hold of the pale blue boxers with his teeth. Crowley had wanted to do this ever since he first discovered Alistair wore silk.

Unfortunately, it turned out pulling silk boxers off with your teeth was harder than Crowley had expected. Particularly when there was a deliciously firm cock twitching under the slippery fabric against his cheek. In frustration he grabbed the waistband with his hands and dragged them down and off, before licking a wet stripe up Alistair’s straining erection, relishing the choked cry. 

Alistair had gasped the moment he felt Crowley’s mouth on him. The impossible way his tongue writhed around just enough to drive Alistair mad with the sensation of it, desperate for more. He lifted the covers, eager to see, and Crowley looked up at him, those playful lips stretched wide around his cock. It was a staggeringly erotic tableau, but then of course Crowley had to up the ante and wink at him, his lips pulling away into a devilish smirk made all the more lewd by the way Alistair’s cock disappeared behind teeth that glinted dangerously in the late afternoon light. 

“Oh good lord!” Alistair said, dropping the duvet again in self preservation. He bit his lip to stifle the moan, gripping the edge of the duvet in an effort to restrain his hips from jerking upwards as his head arched back into the pillow underneath it. Crowley was every bit as devastating as he remembered (and he’d remembered often).

“Oi!” Crowley said, pulling off and flipping the duvet back so his head was sticking out. “None of this holding back crap. If I’m sucking you off, I want to know you’re enjoying it, otherwise I’ll stop.”

A memory stirred in the depths of Alistair’s brain. “Not one of those occasions?” He asked.

“Not one of those occasions.” Crowley confirmed with another saucy wink as he bent his head down to lavish kisses on Alistair’s thighs.

“Even with the pub filling up downstairs?” Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow slightly and Crowley hesitated, looking back up at him. Alistair could be loud when he wanted to be, which was fucking awesome, but not remotely subtle.

“...Good point. Don’t wanna share. Maybe just a little restraint, for now. This lot can be brutal and your reputation will already be in tatters for being in my bed. Don’t want to give them any more ammo.” Crowley grinned. His hand had wandered to Alistair’s cock and was idly stroking it up and down. “Still wanna hear you though. I fucking love the noises you make. Never had anything get me going like the way you sound with my cock up your arse.”

Alistair tried to roll his eyes at the vulgarity but abandoned it halfway as Crowley twisted his hand slightly. His fingers were somehow still a little cold and the temperature difference was only heightening the sensory pleasure of it. Alistair sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth but the keening sound wormed its way out anyway. 

Alistair slid his gaze down again to see a rather sly expression on Crowley’s face and, heavens, if that didn’t ignite something dark inside him. Crowley looked as if he was about to do something terribly naughty and Alistair fervently hoped it was going to involve him. Or, at the very least, parts of him.

Sure enough, Crowley let him go and slithered towards the bedside table to retrieve something from the middle drawer, before resuming his position, the duvet scrunched around his shoulders. 

Alistair was feeling rather exposed, every nerve in his body straining to find out what Crowley might do next. He vaguely registered that he should feel nervous about the expression on Crowley’s face, the pre-smirk of someone who was already smug about what they were about to do, but he trusted Crowley. Whatever was about to happen, he knew there was a very good chance he was going to enjoy it immensely. A shiver of anticipation rippled over his skin. 

Crowley regarded the thighs he was presently nestled between, giving them the attention they deserved. He kissed them, savoured the ample nature of them with his teeth, trailed his tongue along them until, finally, he wrapped his lips around Alistair’s cock once more and sucked it back down in one smooth motion. His body still cooling off after his own release, Crowley had all the time in the world to slowly and methodically take Alistair apart, even if the noises coming from the head of the bed were suggesting rather strongly that this may not, in fact, be the case. Crowley would be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasised about this extensively, and now he was here he was going to make sure Alistair enjoyed it.

Alistair somehow managed to restrain his moans, muffling them with the back of his hand as and when needed. Crowley could do some quite incredible things with his tongue and Alistair had almost forgotten to worry about just what Crowley had pulled out of the bedside table drawer when he heard a tell-tale pop of a cap being removed. Turning his face into the pillow, Alistair drew his knees up, spreading his legs as wide as they would go as Crowley’s slick finger pressed against his hole. 

Crowley’s mouth slipped off the end of his cock and Alistair knew that just wouldn’t do. He didn’t even wait for the question. 

“God yes, don’t stop, please!” He begged. Crowley hummed his way down the length of Alistair’s cock this time, as he slipped his finger gently inside. Still slightly cool, Alistair felt every single exquisite millimetre of it.

Alistair howled into the pillow, not daring to look down. Nimble fingers were doing a spectacular job of making him forget about everything other than the steady build of pressure and he tried to keep his hips still while Crowley’s tongue did some frankly scandalous things.

Another finger and Crowley was skirting indecently close to a spot that Alistair was incredibly keen for him to find. It was a beautiful torture of too much and not quite enough all at the same time. Alistair was so overwhelmed he wasn't even sure he knew his own name at this point. What he did know, however, was that if Crowley kept this up he was going to come very soon. Therefore it was only natural that at that moment Crowley chose to take his cock deeper into his mouth and swallow around the head as it slipped into his throat. 

“Oh god, Crowley, I’m…. I’m…!”

Alistair glanced down, his body on a knife edge. Crowley looked up at him as he hollowed his cheeks and sank down again, curling his fingers in just the right place in time with the movement of his throat. The effect was instantaneous. Alistair’s whole body arched, hands fisted into the pillow as the fire that had been steadily building deep in his loins exploded, rendering everything a rather blinding shade of white. 

It was all rather lovely for a while. Then someone was saying his name. 

“Alistair…?”

“Alistair?”

“Angel, you OK there?”

“Angel?!”

Alistair blinked and looked around at the voice, the rich timbre of it a wonderfully soothing sound. His eyes gradually focused on Crowley leaning over him, hair falling across a slightly furrowed brow.

“Everything alright?” Crowley asked, a hesitation in his voice. 

Alistair was floating. Somewhere he had a body, but right now he wasn’t feeling overly connected to it. He’d been blown right out of his very corporation. De-corporated. Discorporated. That sounded better. He should probably say something. Crowley looked worried. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to coordinate getting sound out of it. 

“Fuck.” He said, eloquently. 

OK, not quite what he’d had had in mind, but Crowley looked more relieved. The cheeky spark had returned to his eyes. He had really quite beautiful eyes, Alistair thought. Such a smooth colour. For a man consisting of mostly angles and hard lines, he could be remarkably smooth at times. 

“You still with me?” Crowley asked, a grin starting to form on his face. 

“I… fuck.” Alistair tried. More words this time, but still not useful ones. 

Crowley laughed. “Well now I know what it takes to render you speechless, at least.” He laid his head down on Alistair’s chest and coiled around him again as Alistair settled back into his body. 

Laying on the bed, warm, and wrapped up in the slender limbs of the man he loved, was a wonderful way to return to the world, Alistair thought. The sounds of the pub filling downstairs were filtering up through the floor, the music almost drowning out the chatter and the occasional bout of raucous laughter. He felt content here, hiding away from the world in a space just for the two of them. He was at peace in a way he hadn’t felt since… goodness, he couldn’t even remember when. 

Crowley felt Alistair shift and turned his head to look up at him. The smile he was greeted with was breathtaking. 

“Oi, turn that off, you. ‘M too ginger for that, you’ll give me sunburn.” Crowley grumbled, although he couldn’t stop his own smile from stealing over his face. 

Crowley was very much enjoying snuggling up to Alistair (he shouldn’t be surprised at that, really) but he’d been still for far too long now. Wriggling into a kneeled position, he let himself look down at Alistair, naked and relaxed in his bed. Alistair put one arm out to rest on Crowley’s thigh where he was curled next to his hip, the other propping up his head so he could return Crowley’s gaze and it only highlighted the glorious sturdiness of him. He was so real, so _there_ in the way he made the bed dip, the space he took up. The presence Alistair had felt so grounding and safe and Crowley had the distinct impression that nothing would move him if he didn’t want it to. _Let’s see the universe try and take him away._

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Crowley said, gesturing irritatedly. “I mean, look at you just lying there all gorgeous. I’m far too much in love with you and you’re making me all mushy, you bastard. I’m a highly trained stealth operative. Double-O-fucking-seven with better style. I am not meant to be _mushy_. You’re ruining my image.”

Alistair chuckled and Crowley couldn’t help but love the way his whole torso moved with the sound. 

“I am no more ridiculous than you, my love. You are quite simply exquisite in every way and I consider myself bewilderingly lucky.”

Crowley was not going to sit here and listen to that sort of thing. He put on a serious face. 

“Oh! You found your words again. Damn.” He teased. “So. Listen, Alistair…” He took a deep breath. “In the morning...”

Alistair’s face only gave the tiniest hint of his reaction, just the barest suggestion in the way his eyes froze and his lips pressed together. The hand on Crowley’s leg stopped in its idle tracing of the serpentine tattoo, fingers lifting slightly. Crowley leaned in, narrowing his eyes. 

“I’m going to snuggle you so much you’ll have to pry me off.” Alistair rolled his eyes as his face softened in his relief, swatting Crowley’s leg gently. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Crowley waggled a finger at him.

“Oh, you fiend!” Alistair laughed. 

“Yep.” Crowley replied, the smile on his face making his cheeks ache. “And I might even go so far as to make you breakfast if you’re really unlucky.” 

“Oh Lord, that sounds positively dreadful!” Alistair’s stomach growled quite spectacularly, completely undermining his statement. 

“Worked up an appetite, have you?” Crowley teased, his gaze turning fond. 

Alistair pouted at him. He may have even fluttered his eyelashes. But Crowley was not going to fall for that. He wasn’t. Really, he wasn- he was, wasn’t he. 

“Yes, alright, fine. Wait here.” Crowley sighed, getting up, muttering something about soft touches. He pulled on his pyjama trousers, huffing to himself, then caught sight of Alistair’s shirt where it had been cast off on the floor. He very carefully picked it up, shook it out, and slipped it on, giving Alistair a rather self-satisfied grin over his shoulder as he did so. Bringing the collar up to his nose, he inhaled the scent, eyes closing of their own accord as his senses were filled with the smell that made his whole body feel like molten gold. He did the buttons up, very distractedly and with a final glance back at Alistair, darted off out of the door. 

Returning a short while later with some bread, cold meat, and cheese, Crowley’s casual saunter failed him as he reentered the room. Alistair was sat up in bed now, gloriously naked, one leg stretched out while the other was drawn up with his arm resting over it. Crowley briefly considered taking up painting. There was just no way a camera would do Alistair justice. But it wasn’t the sight of so much delicious skin that stopped Crowley in his tracks, it was the expression on Alistair’s face. 

“Crowley…” Alistair all but growled, and bloody hell that managed to somehow bypass Crowley’s ears and arrive straight at his cock. He turned quickly to the chest of drawers by the door and put the food down, taking a moment to try and regain his composure as he closed (and locked) the door. 

“Yes, my Angel?” He asked lightly as he turned back to Alistair. Probably too lightly, but he couldn’t think why it mattered now. He let his weight drop into one hip. Was that too casual? Was this how he normally stood? Why was everything so hard suddenly? Not that… well, maybe that. It was certainly headed that way. 

“That is _my_ shirt.” Alistair said, his eyes boring into Crowley where he stood at the end of the bed in a way that made Crowley want to drop to his knees in front of him

“Is it? You sure? ‘S not tartan.” Crowley shrugged, looking down and picking at it. It was a jerky movement, his body already feeling strung out from the tension Alistair’s unblinking gaze was causing. He was going to need to hold on to the bed in a minute. 

“Do you have any idea what it does to me to see you in my clothes?” And now Alistair blinked. A long, slow close of his eyes as if he were the one that needed to regain composure. 

“Feels like I’m about to find out…” Crowley half-mumbled, and Alistair’s eyes were back on him in an instant. 

“I did say there would be consequences, you impossible creature. Now, come here.” Alistair beckoned to him. 

Crowley felt his legs move and he certainly hadn’t told them to do that, but now he was standing by the bed, vaguely thinking he should probably be concerned at the hold Alistair had over him, but not at all surprised by it. 

“Never really been one to worry about consequences, me.” Crowley said, trying for nonchalant and missing it quite spectacularly. He had a fairly good idea what these ‘consequences’ would entail and was in no way regretting his actions. 

As he put a knee up on the bed to climb on to it, Alistair stopped him. 

“Trousers, Crowley.”

Crowley would ordinarily have made a sarcastic comment in response to that, but his mouth had gone rather inconveniently dry in the face of Alistair’s tone. Instead, his hands took it upon themselves to rid him of the offending item of clothing and he climbed into Alistair’s lap wearing only the shirt that got him into this mess in the first place. 

Alistair took a moment to appreciate Crowley. His arms were too long for the shirt leaving his slender wrists poking out of the loose cuffs. The collar of the shirt was open, hanging to one side and revealing the end of a delicate collarbone. His hair was a mess, dangling oddly in clumps around his face and slightly frizzy from the way it had dried. It was inconceivable that he would ever let anyone see him in such a state of dishevelment, and yet he looked unbelievably beautiful. Alistair hoarded these moments. The versions of Crowley that he, and he alone, was allowed to see. 

“Darling you are temptation incarnate and I am overcome with the need to make sure you know that you are mine.” Alistair said as he slid his hands up inside the shirt. Crowley’s skin was instantly aflame with the feel of Alistair’s hands circling his waist, sliding around his back and pulling their bodies close together. Crowley could feel the warmth of Alistair’s naked chest through the shirt again and was idly thinking of burning the damn thing. Might end up singed from being on him as it was, if Alistair carried on like this. 

“All yours...” was all he could manage to get out, Alistair’s hands tightening their grip as he finally pulled Crowley down into a heated kiss. 

Because, OK, yeah, for one of life’s eternal strays, the whole claiming thing was sparking off all sorts of feelings, not to mention making Crowley dizzy with the speed at which his blood flow redirected south. 

“Is that what you want, Crowley? For someone to possess you?” Alistair murmured against his lips, and he didn’t need to punctuate that by a squeeze of a hand on Crowley’s arse, but Alistair was that much of a bastard, and the way Crowley writhed made it oh so worth it. 

“Just you, Angel, but pretty sure your lot can’t do possessionsss...” Crowley hissed out through gritted teeth as Alistair switched to rubbing his thumb lightly along the inside crease of Crowley’s hip. And, oh, how such a light touch could send fire up Crowley’s spine. 

“Demons can.” Alistair murmured, trailing kisses down his jaw. 

“Yeah, but you’re an angel. I’m the demon.” Crowley reasoned, tilting his head back to give Alistair free access to all the parts of his neck that made him shiver when Alistair kissed them. 

“Same original stock. I’m sure there’s some angel still in you.” Alistair paused, his mouth next to Crowley’s ear. “Or, at least, there’s about to be.” 

The way Crowley’s hips rolled themselves into Alistair was entirely out of Crowley’s control. It appeared his body was acting on impulse this evening, despite the years of training it not to. 

“Fucking hell, Alistair…” He groaned. Alistair’s hands had slid up inside the shirt again and were tracing the lines of his chest, skirting lightly up his stomach before sweeping sideways to brush over his nipples. Crowley whined, his thighs squeezing around Alistair. 

“I wonder if it’s possible to render you speechless as well as legless…” Alistair pondered.

“Now that would be a miracle, Angel…” Crowley responded, breathless and so desperately aroused he didn’t even care how much he was squirming. 

“I’m not sure that’s how miracles work, darling. It would be a rather frivolous one, at any rate. Now, before we go any further, I’m really hoping you have some protection stashed away somewhere?” Alistair asked, his hands pausing on Crowley’s narrow waist. 

Crowley managed to look at him through half lidded eyes, and raise one eyebrow, a smirk just pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes, alright, poor choice of words I suppose.” Alistair rolled his eyes. Crowley grinned, but then his face fell, and his whole body sagged. 

“Shit. No condoms.” The realisation washed over Crowley like a cold shower, Alistair looking equally pained. “Well I wasn’t exactly expecting to get laid down here, was I? Have you seen the people that live in this village?” Crowley grumbled. “Don’t suppose you brought any?”

“I didn’t wish to presume.” Alistair responded flatly. And oh, there was the barest hint of disappointment that Alistair was fighting to keep from his expression, but Crowley had already seen it. 

“And yet you still wore the suspenders…” Crowley dragged a finger down Alistair’s chest, tracing the line where the suspenders usually sat. ”Sooooo. Got tested while in the hospital. All clear.” Crowley said. Just putting it out there. He saw the precise moment the implication hit home as Alistair’s pupils expanded, allowing Crowley to glimpse, for the first time, just how it felt to be prey. Apparently it was more exciting than he’d thought. 

“Crowley…” Oh and that delicious gravelly voice was back again. Crowley felt a shiver of excitement as Alistair’s hands tightened on his waist. “Are you actually suggesting, what I infer, you are implying..?” Alistair’s eyes were searching his face, looking for any hint of misunderstanding or hesitation. 

“Which is…?” Crowley purred, his fingers twisting themselves into Alistair’s hair at the nape of his neck. 

“That we... oh Lord... That as I am also in possession of a clean bill of health, we forgo the protection...” Alistair was trying to restrain himself. He really was. But Crowley wrapping himself around him, very much aroused and naked but for Alistair’s shirt, was only fuelling the fire inside him that demanded he bury himself into Crowley, let him know that on no uncertain terms, he belonged to Alistair. Every other sensation was merely background noise at this point. 

Crowley fixed him with a look that left no room for doubt. 

“Yep.”

Alistair closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose which escaped as a groan. He leant up to kiss Crowley again, unable to resist the pull of his mouth. His hand found its way to undo all the buttons on the shirt, throwing it open so Alistair could continue reacquainting himself with every inch of Crowley’s skin. He’d missed this, the twitch of lean muscle under taut skin, the flutter of a racing heart visible in his chest, even the dusting of russet hair across it, almost blending in with the flush spreading down from his neck. He’d been too preoccupied earlier to appreciate him properly, but now he intended to make up for it. 

“Darling, If I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop…” Alistair warned and oh now Crowley was just barely rocking his hips against him in a way that was seriously testing Alistair’s already waning self control. 

“Don't want you to. Haven’t… you’d be the first. Want it to be you.” Crowley said quietly, almost shy. 

With a growl that Crowley was quickly learning was his new favourite sound, Alistair pulled him down into a searing kiss. He had to have Crowley, and he could certainly start by claiming his mouth. Those lips that taunted him with their devilish smirk, the subtle curl at the sides that Alistair relished. That tongue that was so sharp in conversation, so quick with the retorts that kept Alistair on his toes and yet he’d never be able to forget the sight of it curled around his thumb or, better yet, his cock. Alistair rolled his hips up into Crowley, moaning indecently at the way Crowley met him with already parted lips, giving himself in a way that spoke directly to Alistair's base instinct to horde and protect.

That was the final straw for Alistair. Pushing the shirt off of Crowley’s shoulders, his hand fumbled around until he found the bottle of lube. He brought his knees up and out slightly, forcing Crowley’s legs apart to create space between them, then, reaching one hand underneath, he quickly found the spot he was looking for. His other hand slid up Crowley’s back, steadying him as he traced circles with his finger. 

“Oh, Crowley… I cannot even begin to describe how gorgeous you are like this…” Alistair said, his voice low and thick with arousal. “I would see you like this every day if I could.”

“Careful.” Crowley warned, breathless and urgent. “Might hold you to that.”

Crowley ground down into the sensation, impatient as ever. Alistair relented, pushing his finger gently, but firmly, inside. He watched Crowley’s face as he did so, the features contorting quite delightfully as he adjusted to the intrusion. Alistair tried his best to set a rhythm, but Crowley was squirming against him and whilst seeing him such a writhing mess of need in his lap was not without its merits, it made progress rather difficult. 

“Darling, must you wriggle quite so much?” Alistair asked, his arm sliding down to circle Crowley’s waist and hold him still. Crowley instantly stopped squirming, liquifying in Alistair’s arms. 

“‘F it makes you hold me down like that, yeah…” Crowley all but slurred. He gave an experimental wiggle that got him perfectly nowhere. “Whassit you said? Tally-ho?”

Alistair kissed his nose, kissed his face, kissed everywhere he could reach. 

When he’d come down here to find Crowley, Alistair hadn’t even let himself consider the possibility that he would be allowed to see him like this again. He’d aimed for closure, hoped for renewed contact, and, perhaps, dreamed of affections returned, but this? He’d often allowed himself the fantasy, but on the understanding that that was all it was – fantasy. And yet here was Crowley, the man whom he had fallen quite spectacularly in love with, guard down and gasping at his touch, giving himself to Alistair willingly. 

“Tally-ho, indeed.” Alistair grinned as he set about taking Crowley apart. There was none of the hesitation from before, no hint of the fragile creature that required careful handling, no. Crowley cried out as Alistair added another finger, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Alistair knew in that moment that he had been given the opportunity to show Crowley exactly what he meant to him, and he would not fail. Not again. 

“Alistaaaaair, please!” Crowley panted. “Can’t stand it any longer. ‘M actually begging, this’d be so demeaning if I d’n’t already have your fingers up my arse.”

Alistair laughed and Crowley groaned in frustration, then in a distinctly different tone as Alistair curled his fingers. 

Then Crowley suddenly felt very empty, but it was OK because Alistair was tipping him onto the bed and laying down behind him. Crowley could feel the scorching heat of Alistair’s chest against his back, feel the surprising sense of calm he felt with him there, and, yes, he could feel the maddening jut of a firm cock pressed against his arse. He arched into it, it wasn’t even a conscious decision, but having been separated for a year, he needed this. 

Alistair looked at Crowley, all long limbs splayed out on his side, hair even more of a mess as it fell about his head, body pressing back into Alistair’s. He was looking back at him over his shoulder and Alistair was lost in his eyes. Golden in the late afternoon sun, and filled with wonder. Crowley wasn’t soft. He was lean, slightly gangly when he wasn’t paying attention, capable of calculated violence and soldiering through incredible pain, and yet… Stripped of all of that, relieved of all those layers under Alistair’s touch, there was a softness here that he kept tucked away. A vulnerable underbelly that he kept hidden at all times. He was so unbearably wonderful that Alistair couldn’t stand it. Without breaking eye contact, he brought the head of his cock up, just nudging Crowley. He paused, wanting to check one last time that Crowley was sure, but the way he pushed back onto him left no room for doubt. Or indeed, a pause as Alistair sank himself into the tight heat of the man he loved more than anything in the world. 

Neither could look away as Alistair gently pressed forward until he was completely inside, one arm coming up to wrap around Crowley’s body to hold him still. Only then did they remember to take a shuddering breath. 

Crowley clung to the mattress instinctively, his mind going blank with the feeling of being held so securely, and filled quite so thoroughly.

“Told you we’d find a bit of angel in you.” Alistair winked, finding Crowley’s hand under his own and slipping his fingers in between where Crowley’s were digging into the mattress. 

Crowley was not going to last. He was going to be undone by a wink, of all things. A wink, and a hand holding his so tenderly.

Alistair began a slow, concentrated drag of his hips back and forth, watching Crowley’s face for any discomfort and finding only love. 

“You… b’s’t’d… love you…” Crowley gasped out around a measured pace that was just the right side of teasing, because Alistair is inside him, and it’s all he’s ever wanted. There’s no thin layer of latex between them to smooth out all the bumps and ridges, and Crowley can feel them all. It’s so much. So intimate on a level he’s never experienced before and obviously it feels good, it feels fucking incredible (literally) but he didn’t expect it to feel so _right._

Crowley is _not_ going to get emotional about this. 

OK, not any _more_ emotional about this. 

“Crowley…” Alistair said, and he sounded broken, choked up just as much as Crowley was.

Rolling Crowley half onto his front, Alistair stuck one knee out for balance, tucking it just inside Crowley’s. His thrusts became longer, firmer, his hips rolling into Crowley with no small measure of determination. 

Crowley squeezed Alistair’s hand where their fingers were still tangled together, holding on as tightly as he could, rocking his hips in time with Alistair’s thrusts. Being held down from behind had never been on Crowley’s list of places he liked to find himself, but having Alistair there made him feel so safe in a way he’d never felt before. 

Alistair lost himself in the moment, in the feeling of Crowley’s body undulating beneath him. He tried to stifle the moans in the curve where Crowley‘s shoulder became neck. 

“My Crowley, my love...” Alistair declared, punctuated by long drags that took him deep inside Crowley, his mouth coming up to Crowley’s throat where he mercilessly licked and bit and _claimed._

Crowley turned his head, his back contorting quite impossibly so he could reach Alistair’s mouth to capture it in a heated kiss, only pulling away when the necessity to breathe overruled his need for contact. He didn’t go far, holding Alistair’s gaze from only a few centimetres away.

So this was what making love felt like. The feeling of being part of something more than yourself, the feeling of connection so deep Crowley didn’t know where he ended and Alistair began. The emotion was too great to be contained in a single chest and so it spilled out, creeping into Alistair’s expression, revealing itself to Crowley in Alistair’s bone crushing grip on his hand, in the constant peppering of kisses on his neck and shoulders, in the way Alistair was whispering his name between moans as he moved in him. Crowley felt like he was overdosing. He could feel the love pouring into the cavity behind his breastbone, finding all the gaps where his broken heart had never quite been put back together right and filling them in with molten gold. He felt like he was going to tear apart at the seams and yet the connection only grew until he was completely overwhelmed, reduced to whimpering.

“Oh _Crowley…_ ” Alistair’s voice was rough, choked with the magnitude of his own feelings as Crowley gave himself so completely to him. He shifted his body up slightly, the angle changing, until he found the spot that made Crowley cry out. 

“Oh, my love, my darling, _mine…_ ” Alistair said, driving his hips down harder. 

The thread that Crowley had been holding onto, snapped. The lifeline that had held him in place gave way with the force of a supernova as he swan dived down into his own little death. He cried out at the sheer brutality of it, a strangled sound not unlike a sob bursting out of him as the physical manifestation painted itself across his sheets. 

When he finally opened his eyes and looked at Alistair again, he looked utterly ruined, but there was still an intensity to his gaze. Alistair slowed, as if to withdraw. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Crowley told him. “Don’t you dare stop, Alistair. Keep going. I want you to come inside me.”

Alistair looked less sure. 

“Come on, you bastard, don’t hold out on me now.” 

The mischievous smirk worked, and Alistair resumed his movements, but gentler this time. Crowley was sore, but it was worth it when he felt Alistair lose that rhythm again, hips stuttering and a guttural moan tearing its way out of his throat as his own release took hold. Crowley gasped at the sensation as Alistair’s cock pulsed, at the feeling of the hot, wet gush as he came, eyes locked on to Crowley’s and a hint of a snarl on his mouth. Crowley’s hand was sure to have bruises from the way Alistair gripped his, but it was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

They stayed like that for an extended moment, Crowley absentmindedly pressing kisses to Alistair’s hand as they breathed together. 

“I love nothing in the world so well as you.” Alistair murmured into the back of his neck. 

“That’s convenient.” Came a quiet reply. “‘M fairly fond of you as well. But, Shakespeare? Now? Actually I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Alistair withdrew gently, rolling off of Crowley to lie next to him where he could look at him properly. He looked relaxed and happy, and Alistair felt a surge of pride that he had made him this way. Crowley gazed back at Alistair with a thoroughly besotted expression on his face.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this. What would I have to do to be able to wake up to you like this every day?” Crowley asked, his voice soft as his eyes wandered all over Alistair’s face, drinking in the sight. 

“Stay.” Alistair replied, one hand coming up to trace Crowley’s spine. “Come home to me every night. Crawl into my bed and let me keep you.” 

“For as long as you want me, Angel.” Crowley replied softly.

“Then I would have you for six thousand years at least.” Alistair smiled, a soft little thing that Crowley duly catalogued and cherished. 

“Guarantee you’ll get fed up of me after the first two thousand.” Crowley joked, stretching out and pushing himself up to kneeling. 

“Oh fuck…” He said, an expression of horror on his face. 

Alistair was up in an instant, one hand hovering, not quite sure where to land. “What? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” 

Crowley looked at him, an expression of horror on his face. “Oh my god that feels so gross. Why didn’t you warn me?!”

Alistair laughed with relief, falling back down onto the bed. 

“Yeah, very funny, but this is your side of the bed I’m leaking on.” Crowley grumbled.

“We have made rather a mess, haven’t we?” Alistair said looking at his smeared and sticky torso and the wrecked sheets. Reaching back he found the tissues and cleaned Crowley up as best he could.

“Showers for us both, I think, Angel.” Crowley suggested. “And probably some new sheets.”

The shower was… cosy. It wasn’t really designed for two, but neither felt like letting the other go just yet, and the water was plenty hot enough. 

Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off Alistair. Flushed from the heat, water running down his body, he looked so completely different like this. All except the eyes. His eyes still had that twinkle and Crowley couldn’t work out how he’d gone so long without it. 

Alistair had insisted on washing him, turning him gently so he could spread the soap. He paid special attention to the scar on the back of Crowley’s ribs. No longer an angry red, it still filled Alistair with a complicated mess of feelings to see the evidence like this. 

“‘S’not my favourite souvenir, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Crowley said, watching Alistair over his shoulder, a hint of a smile on his face. Alistair pressed a kiss to the mutilated skin. Soft lips lingering a little before he straightened up again. 

“Guess this means I’m yours now, eh?” Crowley said, the fondness he was feeling bleeding into his voice. “Does that mean that if I misbehave, you’re responsible?” He grinned over his shoulder again, one eyebrow raised. 

Alistair pushed Crowley under the shower, letting it wash the soap off before he followed, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s torso and pressing his body against Crowley’s back. Crowley leaned into him, wrapping his own arms over the top. 

“Joking aside, my love, I don’t _own_ you Crowley, and nor do I want to.” Alistair said, chin just about resting on Crowley’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to tame that wonderful, wild spirit of yours. You are free to make your own decisions about what you want from this. But I do so very much want to keep you. I am yours as much as you are mine, you know that, don’t you?” 

“Mrnrmyeah.” Crowley mumbled. Not. Emotional.

Twenty minutes later, wrapped in towels and sat on the end of a freshly changed bed, they shared the pilfered food and caught up on the months prior. Crowley asked all about Alistair’s new book, letting slip he’d already read it twice. Alistair told Crowley everything that happened in that hospital room. The sun had gone down, and they lit the bedside lamp, casting the room into a soft glow. Eventually the bread ran out and they curled up under the covers, pyjamas and towels still crumpled where they’d been abandoned on the floor. 

“Crowley I really am so very glad you came to the book launch.” Alistair said in the dark. “Otherwise who knows how long it would have taken us to find one another again?”

“You didn’t look best pleased to see me, Angel. Fled at the sight if I remember rightly.” Crowley said softly. 

“Oh you daft serpent. I didn’t run _away_ from you!” Alistair said, lifting his head from Crowley’s chest to look at him properly in the moonlight squeezing in under the curtain. “I ran down the stairs to find you! But by the time I made it down, you’d gone.”

“You ran?” Crowley looked back at him, deadpan but for the quiver in the corner of his mouth where it wanted to curl upwards. 

“Yes. And I have no desire to repeat the experience so don’t go disappearing again please Crowley, you’re too fast for me.” Alistair replied with a pout. 

“Nah.” Crowley said, settling back into the pillow with his eyes closed, a contented expression on his face. “No more running for me. Already got everything worth running for right here.” He gave Alistair a squeeze.

Sleep took them eventually, stealing them away between gentle teasing and murmured words of adoration as they held each other in the dark. Dawn would come in due course, the rising of the sun heralding a beginning rather than an end. 

And wasn’t that a thing? 

**Author's Note:**

> [Take me back to the main plot! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241204/chapters/64999384/#return-takemeback)


End file.
